Godhand
by Crossover King 46
Summary: Ramza as a monk, and everybody's talking about it.
1. Chapter 1

**Godhand**

**

* * *

**

Professor Darlavon sighed as he looked at his papers. It had been several months since the re-opening of the Royal Military Akademy, and things were as normal as they could be. The kids still fell asleep in his class every time he opened his mouth, but he had come to accept that his lectures were not the most of things that one could be doing at a school for the fighting arts.

He flipped through his papers. There were a couple promising ones in this year's parade of cadets. Kurtz, the second son of a rather minor highborn family located in Gariland - he was skilled with a sword, and strong of heart. Not devout enough to wield magick, but that was a minor concern for one so suited to the frontlines. His twin brother Kennard was quite the opposite, and had taken to Black Magick.

The Professor leafed through the papers a little more, sipping his beverage as he did so. Delita Hyral - an oddity. He was lowborn, but that was not something that Darlavon held against him, although he knew some of the other professors thought otherwise. Skilled with a sword - extremely so, and held a good understanding of the workings of magick. This was a boy who could, given enough time and favour from from the church, possibly be accepted into the ranks of Holy Knight. Lord knows he had the aptitude for it, although the matter of his blood being common left the path to that future unclear.

Another page, and - ah, of course.

Ramza Beoulve.

Now this young man was a mystery. It was difficult to believe that he was cut of the same stock as Dycedarg and Zalbaag Beoulve and descended from the great Barbaneth hismelf - Ajora knew that the boy was below-average with a sword. Magick-wise he was no special talent either, able to cast up to the second level of Black Magick with ease but unable to go any further. He had a good mind for tactics and a somewhat charismatic personality, but his aptitude for being a commander was tempered by the fact that he was too gentle to reign in possible dissident soldiers.

Darlavon sighed. How could this be? There was no doubt in Darlavon's mind that the boy would never be able to match his brothers on the field of battle - they were able to achieve the grand ranks of Ark Knight and Rune Knight, for God's sake. Ramza would be hard pressed to become a Holy Knight, or even a Fell Knight.

Still, there had to be something he could do. There had to be something to Ramza that he could not see - something that the Beoulve name had gifted on him. He was good at raising morale, good at encouraging others with words and praise... But those skills did not lend themselves to battlefield practicality.

Hmm. The boy was brave, however. And he was always in the thick of the fighting when it came to it, no matter how outmatched he was...

The unarmed fighting of a monk, perhaps?

Bordam Darlavon had no idea what he was unleashing upon the world at large when he scribbled down a few notes on Ramza's profile.

* * *

"Did you hear?"

The tavern was abuzz with noise. Patrons of the seedier parts of Gariland gathered here in the evening to make merry and exchange rumours and information they had acquired through the grapevine. But today there was only one thing that everybody wanted to talk about.

"About the group of bandits who were put to rout by Akademy students? Certainly, but what news does this make? What makes this so different from the other crimes happening in these parts lately?"

"Not about that - you're missing the important bits. You do know that the operation was led by one of the Beoulves, no?"

"I heard it was the third son of the family. The bandits were guaranteed death the moment they were dispatched by the Northern Sky."

"Rumours have it-"

"The ground was split apart! I saw it! I came around after the battle was over, and the ground was split apart like cracked glass!"

"That matters not. _I _heard that among the bodies of the fallen, there were several who were simply _beaten _to death!"

The noise did not die down for the entire night.

* * *

"Potion?"

Argath turned to look at his benefactor. Delita held out a bottle of the blue liquid, glancing at him with concern in his eyes. The blonde squire felt at his body - he had been injured during that last battle, and had hardly noticed it. He accepted the bottle with grace, gulping it down, and smirked as he felt his wound mend.

"Thanks."

"Anytime," smiled Delita. This was the first time he had seen a squire from another part of Ivalice - everybody else in the group had come from the Royal Military Akademy. "Are you feeling fine after that fight?"

"Could be better, but at least I'm not dead," said Argath callously. He recalled the way that some of his fellow squadmates had been felled by the brigands as they charged the wagon and abducted the marquis. Had Elmdor been able to reach his weapons, Argath was willing to bet that there would've been a much bigger resistance. "Are you certain that Ramza will be able to get his brothers to assist the marquis?"

Delita shrugged.

"He's got a knack for doing what's right. That's why the rest of us take orders from him, after all," said Delita. "I'm not sure about Dycedarg, but Zalbaag is always willing to listen to him, at least."

Argath nodded. His mind went back to the battle.

"...Does he always fight like that?"

Delita grinned.

"Heheh, yeah. He used to be a lot more conventional, but then one of the professors at the Akademy recommended he sign up for a class taught by a monk - he hasn't gone back. It's pretty terrifying, isn't it? It suits him so well, I mean."

Argath recalled the battle against the thieves.

The thieves had been much better equipped than the cadets - strangely enough, and had much more experience in the field as well. The squires had been taught the basics of battle, but these rogues and false knights had spent years fighting in the Fifty Years' War and use that experience to their advantage. Argath had expected at the start of the battle - not daring to hope - that the conflict would've ended the same way as earlier, when his squad of Limberry squires had been eradicated.

It was not to be.

Whatever the cadets lacked, Ramza made up for in spades. He had charged into the middle of battle, straight at the front of the group - Argath would've called him a fool had he not seen what he did.

The blue-clad noble had destroyed any man that had come before him. Any strike that came at him from any angle was anticipated, and the attacker always recieved a fist in their face that was strong enough to break noses and shatter skulls. He had wade into battle with impunity, destroying armour and ribcages alike with his earth-shattering punches, and Argath had seen it happen literally when he split the earth and sent two Corpse Brigade squires tumbling to their deaths.

It was like he had the touch of God, Argath mused. If he came into contact with an enemy, that enemy would be eradicated. If he came in contact with an ally, that ally would be healed. If he came into contact with a _dead _ally, that dead ally would be revived.

Looking once more at the front of the group, where the young noble was leading his pack, Argath wondered what it felt like to be beaten to death by bare fists as they crushed both steel and bone.

"I never want to make an enemy of him," muttered the blonde squire.

Delita smiled in amusement.

"I know what you mean."

* * *

"Did you hear about what happened on Mandalia plains-"

"The Corpse Brigade attacked, right? The Order of the Northern Sky were late in getting there, I hear. By the time they had arrived, the marquis had already been carted off."

"-But did you hear about what happened during the-"

"One man - one man, I heard, demolished an entire wing of Corpse Brigade soldiers! Sure, they're rogues, but these men were prized fighters during the Fifty Years' War! Even the Order has had problems in dealing with them-"

"-You can't stop him, they say. You raise a blade against him, he crushes your throat without remorse. You raise a bow against him, he cracks your skull from afar! Cast magick - he'll rain a million blows on you, and even if you wear as much armour as you can he'll tap a few spots on your body and in three seconds you'll be dead-"

"Hey, hey-"

"-you know what they're calling him now?"

The bartender wiped a mug as he listened in on the conversations. Conversation had gone to nothing else these past few days.

"The Godhand, right?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Godhand

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**

"He collapsed a tree."

Delita turned to look at Argath, who was glaring at him. The boy had been slightly antagonistic towards him since he'd learned about Delita's status, but it wasn't anything major. He seemed a touch more concerned about Ramza's skills than anything else at the moment, really.

"Yeah, he does that."

They had set up camp around the Siedge Weald. It was only half a day's march from the Merchant City of Dorter, but Ramza had wanted everybody to prepare themselves for possible conflict, and had given the cadets a period of rest. He had an unerringly good intuition about these kind of things, and the rest of the cadets knew it.

"No, I don't think you understand," said Argath, making motions in the air. He punched the air several times, and Delita smiled at the motion. They were nothing like the cracking blows that Ramza brought out, the blows that Argath was trying to mimic. "He broke a tree. Brought it down with one punch. _One punch."_

"And I said he does that."

"_How."_

"You know," pondered Delita as he stroked his chin. "I've never really asked."

The battle that had occurred earlier in the day was still fresh on their minds. They had been ambushed by a small party of bombs and goblins - certainly nothing to worry about - and had no problems fending for themselves. A couple of the greener cadets had been wounded, but the chemist in their party and Ramza's mystical application of physical energy had healed them right up.

Delita recalled Ramza's actions during the conflict. The young noble had definitely broken a tree - cracking the bark with one punch and sending it tumbling onto a group of goblins who were in the middle of swamp water, smashing them into the ground and causing them to drown. That had been battlefield practicality right there. Why punch one thing and kill one thing when you could punch one thing and kill two things?

"These skills are insane! Things we cannot do with a sword he does with his bare hands, simple as swatting a fly!" said Argath, aghast. He had expected some degree of skill from the Beoulve - he _was _a Beoulve - but this was right out of his wildest dreams. "You cannot even fell a tree with Black Magick, yet he does it with a snap of his fingers!"

Delita smiled at the image of his childhood friend felling a tree by snapping his fingers. It was rather amusing.

"Oh, stop smiling! This is serious!"

"What's so serious about it?" asked Delita, shrugging. "He punches things and kills them, and he's really good at it. He's on our side, you know."

"I don't think _Thunder God Cid _can take down a tree with one punch."

"Oh, get used to it already."

"I can't!"

There was one thing that Argath knew for sure now. There was no way in hell, even put under threat of death, that he was going to get on the bad side of Ramza Beoulve. There was a sneaking suspicion in his gut that the boy was more dangerous than the rest of his living family put together.

* * *

The inn they were staying at in Dorter was one of the cheaper ones, mused Argath as he looked about the room. Several of the other cadets were rooming with him, but Delita and Ramza were in the other room. That was good - he tolerated Delita's presence due to his friendship with Ramza, but it was hard for him to get past the boy's commoner status.

"Argath, right?"

"Yeah. Who's asking?" replied Argath, turning around.

The two young men standing in front of him smiled in unison as they greeted each other. One of them was clad in the white cape of a Northern Sky knight, while the other wore a robe. Ah yes, the twins. He had seen them on the battlefield - all he recalled was that both of their names started with the letter K.

"Kurtz and Kennard Zealand, at your service," said the one dressed in armour. "I'm Kurtz, and this is my brother Kennard. We figured it was about time we introduced ourselves."

Ah yes, he had heard of House Zealand. They were rather minor, but they were nobles involved with the court of Gallione. It was no surprise to find sons of the house involved with the Akademy.

"Argath Thadalfus."

"We heard," said Kennard. "We saw you in battle. You're rather proficient with breaking gear, are you not? My brother is rather interested in the way you fight."

"You say? I simply use what they taught us at Limberry castle. There's nothing special about the way that I fight - at least not compared to him," said Argath, nodding his head at the other room.

Kurtz barked out a laugh.

"Yes, doubtless Ramza is the most unorthodox of all us cadets of the Akademy," said Kurtz. "But I'm referring to your capabilities when it comes to breaking helmets and armour. You were quite a sight during the battle in the afternoon."

Argath recalled the fight. It had been a completely different experience compared to the battle at Mandalia. Rather than going up against thieves led by one or two veterans, they had dealt with real soldiers, people who had been trained classically and had seen real battle. It had been a surprise to see Wiegraf there, but he had left too quickly for any of them to do anything.

He and Delita had the same idea, quickly attempting to ascend the nearest building to try and attack the archer at the top - having an enemy ranger at such close range meant that they could be fired upon with impunity; standard tactics called for the man's elimination.

He had been eliminated, but not the way that Argath had expected.

The ground had rumbled, and Argath had to fight to keep his balance as the building collapsed upon itself. The wood that had held the weight of the roof had shattered upon itself as tremors was sent in under the foundation of the building - it did not take long for the house to shake itself to pieces, and the archer fell along with it. Before the man could collect himself and fight back, however, he collapsed to the ground, his head having been caved in by an invisible blow. Argath had turned his head, only to see Ramza with a fist held out.

It did not take long for a crystal to form.

_"He destroyed a building with his fists."_

Kennard scratched his head.

"Yeah, you get used to it after a while."

"Why does _everybody _say that."

"Because it's true?" muttered Kurtz. "Anyway, you've been moping about in here for an hour already. Let's go out and get some exercise - it's the only way we'll be able to keep pace with Ramza. Ajora knows he's already leagues ahead of us."

"Practice?"

Kennard nodded. "We do a lot of sparring in this camp - it's the only way we ever get anywhere. A lot of sharing of techniques and whatnot."

Argath sighed as he allowed the pair to drag him out of the room, only half-listening as Kurtz conversed with him about the miscellaneous bits of information that went towards the shattering of swords and shields. At least they knew where the marquis was now, and it was only a matter of time until they got there.

He had to restrain himself from kicking that stupid Corpse Brigade knight in the face though. Something told him during the interrogation that Ramza probably would've punched him had he wanted to act the way he usually did with uppity commoners.

Argath didn't want to get punched by Ramza.

* * *

Zeklaus Desert was a harsh trek, Delita mused as he looked about the camp. It had taken them a day of travelling to get to where they were now, and it would take them another day to get to the Sand Rat Sietch - at least, that was what the guide said. He knew of the place, but had no familiarity with it; there had been no reason for him to visit the place in the past.

He looked at the tents strewn about the sand. There was a clearing in the middle of the camp where two squires were going at each other with broadswords; a priest and a chemist were sitting nearby chatting, their presence there to make sure nothing went horribly wrong.

_Klang._

One of the squires had disarmed the other, and the second was now prone on the floor as the first edged her blade ever closer. Very quickly the second yielded, and the clearing was open for other combatants. Out of the corner of his eye Delita spotted Argath, Kurtz, and Kennard meandering towards the circle of rocks.

"Sparring?" called out the brown-haired youth.

"Righto," replied one of the Zealand brothers. Delita judged it to be Kennard, according to the robes he wore. "Care to join us? Argath wants to try his luck at the Zealand pair; it'd certainly be much more fair if he had back-up."

"Attempting both of the Zealands at once?" smirked Delita. "You're quite confident in your abilities, Argath."

The blonde squire snorted, wiping away some of the sand that rested on his armour. He stood at the side of the ring, letting the edge of his blade sink into the sand.

"Maybe so, but I've learned a few tricks since I've joined up with this company, Heiral," said Argath. Delita had a feeling that the youth didn't like him very much, but the feeling seemed to lessen a little each day. Certainly they were not exactly friends, but there were no problems between them either. "If you think I'm outclassed, perhaps you should get down here and watch my back."

Delita grinned, and jumped off the wagon he had been sitting on. It was definitely good to get a little practice in.

The fight was a fun one. The Zealands played the perfect pair, with Kurtz taking all the blows in stride, parrying attacks with both his weapon and shield and Kennard taking his time charging up immensely painful Black Magicks. Several times Argath expected to go down, had Delita not appeared out of nowhere and granted himself him extra vitality somehow.

The fight was prolonged, but in time it ended. Argath managed to down Kurtz with a well-placed punch to the sternum after the youth had disarmed him, and without his brother around to act as a guard Kennard fell quickly. The battle ended, and the losers were revived before they had time to crystallize.

Argath had to admit. With the slight exception of Delita, he was much more comfortable with this company than his previous one. God bless their souls, but the Limberry cadets were too sombre of a bunch.

They slept for a day, and soon enough Ramza was leading them towards the Sand Rat Sietch, where the marquis was being held. By the time they showed up, the guards were already on the offensive, as arrows rained from within and knights and monks came streaming out the doors.

Ramza gave the order to charge, and soon enough the company had fallen in behind him. Argath was there too - it was the safest place on the battlefield, he knew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Godhand

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**

Elmdor had been recieved by a guard duty of Northern Sky knights when they returned to Dorter - the marquis had not stirred at all during the journey. It had been rather strange; how did the Order know what they had done, and that they had succeeded, wondered Delita to himself.

Argath had been beside himself with worry for the marquis, and had visibly breathed a sigh of relief when the knights had taken him into protective custody. The lead knight - one that Delita recognized as one of the officers usually stationed in Eagrose - had given Ramza a short message from Dycedarg, obviously an admonishment of some kind judging by Ramza's visage.

And so the cadets made their way towards Eagrose, where they were meant to be stationed along with the remnants of the Northern Sky. The majority of the White Lion's forces were still out there hunting down the Corpse Brigade - Eagrose's defenses apparently needed bolstering.

They rested in Dorter for one night, with the cadets practicing around the ring once more. Argath was quickly proving himself to be a contender, absorbing Kurtz's weapon and shield rending techniques much faster than the other youths attempts to teach himself Argath's armor rending skills.

Kennard had taken to talking to another cadet - this one hailing from the Royal Magickal Akademy rather than the Military one - attempting to educate himself in the use of White Magick and Time Magick to bolster his own arcane might.

Delita himself had less time to practice, being Ramza's second-in-command. Once in a while, when he managed to pull himself from his duties, he would spar in the ring where Argath realized exactly why Delita was held in such esteem by the rest of the company despite his blood. He had a mastery of the blade few others had, and raw talent that Argath had never seen before, although he was loath to admit it. He was proficient in several knightly techniques, although he preferred simple tactics like rock-throwing and ramming. There were rumours amongst the cadets that he was learning White Magick as well.

Argath thought it ironic that a commoner like Delita Heiral fought more like a Beoulve with a sword than the Beoulve himself - although speaking of the devil...

Ramza hardly joined in on the sparring for exactly one reason. Nobody wanted to fight him. When somebody was game, and there were at least two priests and chemists nearby, they had to hand him a sword and force him to use it as a handicap. It didn't save his opponent from being destroyed by martial arts techniques, although it did prevent them from being downed in one blow.

Being one-shotted was a hit to confidence, and made it exceptionally hard to learn from your mistakes. Although nobody faulted anybody for losing against Barbaneth's third son, it still hurt. Argath rubbed his bruise. He knew the pain of defeat as well, and Ramza had been taking it easy on him.

Argath was still rather annoyed, of course.

They had Wiegraf right where they wanted him! In the cellar, right next to the warm corpse of that Corpse Brigade officer - what was his name - standing in front of Elmdor's prone form! And he had the gall to bargain for his escape. Argath had no idea why Ramza had decided to back off - sure, Wiegraf had managed to teach himself the techniques of the Holy Knights during the Fifty Years' War, but Argath had every confidence that Ramza could match the man blow for blow, and he had Delita and himself backing him up!

...The raw anger he felt at the time was turning into a slight smoldering now as he recalled the battle before that, against the sentries of the Sand Rat Sietch. The archers had been no problem, and the knights as well, but when the monks had charged out of the walls - well, he had to admit that he had flinched.

Not only him, either. Most of the company had hesitated slightly. They were all developing a slight monk-phobia after being exposed to Ramza for so long.

Thankfully, however, the enemy monks had been nothing compared to Ramza's might. With a single attack - that strange earth-splitting skill of his - he had managed to send both monks screaming into the abyss. The enemy had hesitated at that, but they had continued charging regardless, and the cadets had slaughtered them with impunity.

Argath had a feeling that the other cadets shared his anger at the Corpse Brigade for sending out monks and scaring their lights out. Of course, they had taken it out on them.

"Argath!" cried Delita. "Come out! We're hitting the tavern!"

Argath sighed, opening the door. There in the doorway was Delita and the two Zealand brothers. The armour they usually wore was nowhere to be seen.

"Tavern?"

"You know," said Kennard. "Places where you go to get drunk? Have a good time? Check out some propositions and talk?"

"Yes," said Argath, narrowing his eyes and gritting his teeth. "I know what a tavern is. What I don't understand is why you want to go, and why you're going at this God-forsaken hour."

"Don't be like that. Ramza said he was too tired to go today, so we're asking you to fill our fourth spot," said Kurtz with a smile. "And maybe while we're at it, you can give me a couple more tips on breaking armour, eh? I think I got the angle right but-"

Argath groaned.

"Don't be like that," said Delita. "We're not taking no for an answer!"

Yes. Argath had somewhat gotten used to that. He resigned himself to being dragged off by the Terrible Trio (as he came to call them in his mind) halfway across Dorter. They rounded the block and came upon the local tavern, opening the door and entering.

The hustle and bustle of the place wasn't Argath's usual cup of tea; he preferred to deal with high society and civilized people instead. Yet he had no say in the matter as Delita called the barmaid and ordered a table for four. By the time he regained his composure they had been seated and mugs of ale had been passed around the table.

Argath looked at the frothy liquid with some trepidation.

"Aren't we a little young to be at a place like this?"

"Ah, young. We're soldiers, I'm certain our superiors trust us to hold our liquor," said Kennard with a smile. "Bottom's up! First round's on Argath!"

Argath's eyes widened, but before he had a chance to protest the Terrible Trio had chugged down half their mugs with satisfaction on their faces. The blonde squire banged his head against the table, before attacking his drink as well. No point resisting now.

The three of them made conversation, with Argath joining in periodically. They talked about a variety of topics - the King's sickness, the situation in Gallione and Ivalice in general, as well as training. Hopes and dreams were discussed as well. Argath was not surprised in the least at Kurtz's ambitions of becoming an officer in the ranks of the Northern Sky, although Kennard neglected to share his. Delita smiled and explained that he only wished to be of use to Ramza, and Argath nodded. Yes, that's the way a commoner was supposed to be.

Although, he realized that the more time he spent alongside Delita, the less the idea of blood bothered him. He hoped he wasn't getting too soft here. Nobles were supposed to be better people than the lowborn.

They had a moment of silence as they ran out of topics to talk about, and that's when fragments of another table's conversation reached their ears.

"You have any more news of the Godhand?"

"Haha, I heard that he was in that group of cadets who rescued Elmdor from the Sand Rat's Sietch. They say he headed the operation single-handedly and destroyed all who opposed him. Wiegraf himself was said to be there, and he turned tail and ran the moment he saw him!"

Argath looked at Delita, who returned his expression in kind. The four at the table looked nervously at each other.

"Wonder who he really is..."

"Must be the eldest son of a pretty powerful noble family. Military tutors and the like from the age of one. There's no other explanation for how he could be so powerful-"

Delita chuckled. The general idea was there, but the details were horrendously wrong. House Beoulve had hardly spared time on tutors for Ramza, he had been given no head start compared to the rest of the students at the Military Akademy. His martial arts prowess was less a product of family influence and more a matter of hard work and unforeseen talent.

Everybody at the table pretty much knew who they were talking about at this point, and they had to admit - the epithet 'Godhand' was a rather fitting one for the young noble whose fists could shatter steel and beat fear and death into minds and bodies alike.

They sat in silence for a while, simple listening to the other patons converse amongst themselves. They heard rumours of how the Godhand was a giant who numbered nine heads tall, whose biceps were like sculpted things, and how his red hair burned bright like the flames of some undying flame.

The four left the tavern after a while. It would not do if they were too tired to wake up on time tomorrow and march. They didn't want to anger Dycedarg more than they had already, and getting to Eagrose late would definitely arouse the noble's ire.

Delita smiled to himself.

He wondered what Ramza's expression would be like when he asked his noble friend where he kept the King Behemoth that one of the tavern patrons had sworn the Godhand used as both a pet and a steed.

* * *

They encountered two bands of monsters as they trekked across Gallione towards Eagrose Castle. A group of bombs and goblins headed by a single skeleton had attempted to ambush them in the Siedge Weald, but they had regrouped and easily dispatched them.

Argath was rather proud of his accomplishment, having single-handedly destroyed two goblins and a bomb before a second one had self-destructed in his vicinity, killing him. It was a good thing that there had been a chemist with phoenix down nearby. Delita had kept out of the thick of the fighting, he spent most of the time guarding the priests and chemists from attack. Kurtz, of course, stood at the front, blocking and attacking, buying time for his twin brother's Black Magick, and when the tides of lightning swept the field they all knew the battle was over.

Ramza had been barred from entering the battle by popular vote. All of the cadets had agreed that they needed the experience and practice far more than he did. Argath was not very good at reading the Beoulve's expression, but he swore that the young noble was sulking.

The second band of monsters they met at Mandalia Plain had proven to be more of a problem. Things had started out fine, but somewhere along the way the chemists realized they had forgotten to stock up at Gariland, and the constant flow of phoenix downs came to a halt.

Argath did the best he could with what he had, trying to keep his vitality up while chipping away at the enemy. But his equipment-destroying skills were hardly coming in handy against monsters that relied on beak and claws rather than swords or lances. Soon he found himself surrounded on all sides by enemies and downed, upon which he was revived nigh-instantly by a phoenix down. He was downed again. Revived again.

By the fourth raise he was getting rather annoyed. How were these chemists trained? What was the point of reviving him while enemies still remained and were willing to kill him again the moment he got on his knees?

Delita ran to and fro, using that strange skill of his to try and keep everybody healthy without using potions. Argath noticed that he seemed to get more and more weary as he used it - perhaps it wasn't as convenient a technique as he thought. The chemists handed out potions to him at regular intervals, however, which meant he lasted quite a while before being felled by a lucky blow.

Kurtz guarded as he always did. Argath marvelled as his constitution - in the time it took for him to die once, his companions had died about four times each. He had managed to kill one chocobo, but a panther had knicked him with its poisonous claws, and there were no antidotes in supply. He went down soon after.

Kennard continued casting, but the chocobos healed away any damage that he did. The weather conditions were clear, which meant that Thunder did not get the boost it often did, and both Blizzard and Fire were rather ineffective against these beasts. His assault ended when he ran out of magickal energies.

They did well, but against the army of healing chocobos and powerful panthers they had come out at a disadvantage, and it took until the last priest had expended his magickal energies before Ramza lept from the wagon and into action.

The battle ended pretty much right there. He took out swathes of enemies at once. Simple twirling around on the spot killed four panthers, and it simply went on like that until the last chocobo had fled. Ramza had given the chemists each a hard look before admonishing them gently about the need to watch their supplies. Phoenix downs were expensive, but even that price was much less compared to the price of a life.

Argath knew they would never forget again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Godhand

* * *

**

Argath sat on the rock walkway, absent-mindedly tossing rocks into the water. Eagrose Castle was more than another fortress - it contained a town bustling with activity - but charged with guard duty meant that boredom was a constant friend. There was no need to stand at attention all the time, for it was highly unlikely the Corpse Brigade, with their strength at an all-time low, would see fit to attack the stronghold of the pillars of the Northern Sky.

Ramza's squadron had turned back to Gariland, and it would take two days for them to get back. They had to submit a report to the Akademy and, while they were at it, equip themselves with weapons and armour more fitting to storm enemy bases. Argath had a feeling that Dycedarg's stern lecture had hastened the young Beoulve's departure, as they had left not soon after they had arrived. Argath had remained at Eagrose at the bequest of the marquis Elmdore, who had felt that Limberry owed Gallione a great debt.

With no sparring partners, there was little in the way of improvement. It had only been half a day since the company had left, and he was without anything to do whatsoever. He had taken to the library to see if he could find a few manuals on knightly techniques, but all he could discover were skills far beyond his scope. Deathknights, Fell Knights, Ark Knights, Rune Knights, Knights Templar, Onion Knights, Divine Knights, Holy Knights, and even the common Dark Knights...

Huh. There were a lot more varieties of knights than he knew about, each with their own techniques and philosophies. Well, that was to be expected - Ivalice, of all the countries on the continent, relied on its forces of knights the most. Ordalia was a nations of spellweavers primarily, and Romanda the titan of long-ranged weaponry. Ordalia had overwhelmed Ivalice during the Fifty Years' War with range, and had it not been for Barbaneth's presence, the war might not have ended with a treaty after all.

He did find several books on tactics and the usage of certain kinds of weaponry, and he took them with him as he had stood on the castle ramparts. There was a book on crystal theory - which detailed the ultimate end known as crystallization as well as explained the phenomenon of inherited techniques, something that mages still did not understand.

The most interesting, however, was a book on bows and crossbows. Argath had never fancied himself an archer, but the idea of using rending techniques at range intrigued him. Certainly he could put a sword on his belt and be able to fight at ranges both close and far. Most high knights did not bother to learn ranged weaponry, but he didn't have special sword skills to back him up in fights, so he figured all was fair.

It was perhaps a little strange, but Argath had always been an avid reader. It had set him apart from the rest of the Limberry cadets, but it was also the reason he had been one of the best and likeliest candidates for knighthood. Of course, his burning desire to prove himself was partially at fault also.

He _had_ to restore the honour to the Thadalfus name, which his grandfather had brought to ruin.

Tainted with the stigma of traitor, his father had been treated little better than a commoner in the courts of Limberry - perhaps even worse. Commoners were expected to be unprincipled ruffians - foolish herds of cattle, but nobles were raised to be better. Sagus Thadalfus had been marked since birth, but he, too, wanted to restore the honour of the family name, and so he pulled as many strings as he could to get Argath into the Limberry Military Akademy.

His death a year later due to suicide spurred Argath on ever further to distance himself from his sire and grandsire. His grandfather was a traitor, and his father was weak. He would be neither of those things - a brave and loyal knight to the very end.

Bravery and loyalty.

He would never give them up.

"Hey there."

Argath was startled at the voice, almost drawing his sword. The girl in front of him wore a hood that covered her hair and much of her face - he had seen her before with Ramza and Delita. There was a schoolbag in her arms, filled with books.

She looked at his face, certainly not missing his startled expression, and giggled. There was something calming about that, Argath decided. It reminded him of his mother's voice.

"Whoa there! I didn't mean to startle you," said the girl. "You're with my brother's company, right? I don't think I caught your name."

"Argath Thadalfus," said Argath. He recalled that Ramza had told him about a sister. This must be the one then, he decided. "Yes. I'm a part of their squadron for now, at least until the marquis decides to recall me."

"Charmed," said the girl, sitting down beside him. Argath looked at her warily - she hadn't even asked whether or not he appreciated her presence. "Would you mind telling me what sorts of things the company does? My brother hardly ever tells me anything he thinks I do not need to know."

Argath shrugged. He didn't see the harm in it, and having somebody to talk to would be infinitely better than sitting around with nothing to do.

"Well, I haven't been with them for long, but..."

He described a variety of things. The training sessions that they go through, the kinds of styles that they all had, and other miscellaneous tidbits. Ramza's almighty presence in the battlefield, the times they go to sleep and wake up, and simple little things that came to his mind.

The girl listened closely and was an avid listener, nodding and smiling as he went on. She would occasionally pause him for a bit to ask for clarification, but these moments were far and few in-between. At last Argath exhausted his topics, and he turned to her, unsure of what to do. He had little experience with girls - all the ones he knew came from old families and knew what the name Thadalfus meant.

"...Wow, you guys really go through a lot, don't you."

"No more than any other squire," said Argath, looking into the sky. "Becoming a knight is no easy matter, only the best of the best make it. Others just become footsoldiers in the army and whatnot. But I'll make it. I'll make it for sure."

"That's really inspiring," said the girl, standing up. "You work really hard, it sounds like, and my brother's working hard too. That means I've got to work hard as well!"

Argath didn't smile much, but her sunny disposition managed to turn the sides of his lips up slightly. Now that he was looking at her from below, the hood covered much less of her face, and what a face it was. Not the most beautiful Argath had ever seen, but so full of life and smiles despite hints of sorrow that he could not help but be touched slightly by her radiance.

"Oh yes, Argath."

"Hmmm?"

"Are you busy tomorrow?"

"No, I'm off-duty then," said Argath. Dycedarg didn't seem to completely trust him yet, although Ramza had vouched for his abilities. It seemed that they were only willing to entrust him with a day's worth of guard duty, and then it was off to join Ramza's company for the extermination of the Corpse Brigade. "How come?"

The girl pulled out two parchment tickets from her bag. Argath looked at it, but the text was too small and too far away for him to read the words.

"I was originally planning on seeing this play with my brother, but he's not here now," she said softly. "The play's tomorrow, and I don't want to waste the tickets... If you don't mind, would you like to go with me?"

Argath had to fight down a blush. Was he being asked to accompany her with no one else around? Was... was this a date?

"A-ah, certainly."

"Great! It's decided then!" said the girl as she clasped her hands together. She put out her hand, giving the young squire one of the little pieces of parchment. Argath took it slowly. "I'll meet you at the theatre in the middle of town tomorrow at noon, I hope you don't mind. It's going to be so much fun!"

"Thanks for inviting me," said Argath, looking at the ticket. "Legend of the Zodiac Braves?"

"It's a historical retelling of St. Ajora's campaign against the Lucavi," said the girl, starry-eyed. "I heard the part of Germonique is being played by Satchel Werent. I have to go now, but I hope to see you tomorrow!"

She turned around, but before she had a chance to disappear into the garden Argath cried out after her.

"Wait! I-I do not know your name!"

She turned around, pulling her hood down. Argath had to take a deep breath as brown locks spilled from her head rather than the expected blonde - it was striking, of course, and no less beautiful, but that meant that-

"It's Tietra Heiral!" said Delita's sister. "It was nice meeting you, Ser Argath Thadalfus!"

Argath paled.

* * *

"What in Ivalice are you doing, Delita?"

The brown-haired boy had stood up, and was looking about as though getting ready for a fight. There was a feral expression on his face, something that was quite out-of-place for a boy usually so calm and collected.

"Somebody's hitting on my baby sister!"

"Oh for the love of Ajora..." said Kurtz as he watched Kennard try desperately to calm their vice-leader down. "If you weren't so overprotective all the time maybe she'd have a boyfriend by now!"


End file.
